


Structure and Good Soil

by Purplechimera, szote



Series: Structure & Good Soil [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agriculture, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Edinburgh, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, architecture, assumptions make an ass out of you and mumptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplechimera/pseuds/Purplechimera, https://archiveofourown.org/users/szote/pseuds/szote
Summary: As an architecture student, Sirius has no need to go to the library-until he needs a book that hasn't been digitized. Suddenly, he's searching for every excuse to spend time in the library-and if he gets to flirt with the student working the checkout, that's just bonus, right?





	Structure and Good Soil

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @szote for inspiring this story with your amazing art, and for giving me permission to change it up a bit. You have been an amazing cheerleader through this process.
> 
> Thank you @jennandblitz, @TheEagleQueen and @Ruthsic for beta-ing and generally being awesome cheerleaders as well.
> 
> Thank you @maraudererasmut for being an incredible resource of architecture information, and for all the help you gave Sirius.
> 
> Lastly, thank you to the WSBB mods for running an amazing fest!!

**SIRIUS**

“This book is only available in analog,” I announce to the living room. 

 

James stares at me for a full minute before speaking. “What.”

 

I point angrily at my laptop screen. “I can’t get a PDF. Only a….” I flap my hands. “You know.” James blinks at me, and I growl in frustration. “PAPER!” 

 

He doesn’t even bother muffling his laughter. “You couldn’t think of the word paper?”

 

“It’s four in the morning!”

 

He’s still giggling, and I toss a pillow at him, but miss. “They probably have it at the library.”

 

It’s my turn to stare. “OH! The stone building with the imperial staircase?”

 

“Yes, you architecture dork. If you go inside, it’s filled with  _ books _ . Real ones! That you can open and close.” He stretches and shuts his own laptop. “I’m going to bed.” He ruffles my hair as he walks past the couch.

 

The next day, having armed myself with copious amounts of coffee, I face the imperial staircase of the library. “Four years, I avoid this bloody building, and yet, here we are.” I make my way up, careful not to slip on the wet marble. Inside, I stride straight past the help desk. I’ll be damned if I show my inadequacy to an elitist librarian.

 

Half an hour later, I am tempted to push the stacks over in frustration. Instead, I pull out my phone.

 

**Sirius (11:27):** How hard can it be to find one book on Late Modernism??

**James (11:27):** Did you confirm they had it?

**Sirius (11:28):** YES and it’s in stock

**Sirius (11:28)** : checked in. Whatever

**James (11:29):** just ask a librarian, jeez

 

I slam my head against the end of a bookshelf, then sigh and trudge toward the help desk.

 

The head librarian is having a fierce, whispered conversation with a terrified looking student. (I know it’s the head librarian-she’s a zillion years old and her mouth is all pinched from shushing everyone.) At the other end, a mop of curly auburn hair is doodling. I love curly hair. I run a hand through my own (depressingly straight) hair, and stroll up to the desk.

 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for-” the words catch in my throat. This boy has the most amazing eyes I have ever seen. It looks like the swath of freckles across his nose continued into the golden brown of his eyes. I swallow. “A book.”

 

He grins. “Aye, ye’ve come to the right place then.” He gestures behind me. “The library’s a barry place for books.”

 

I roll my eyes, even as my stomach dances at his crooked grin. “A specific book. That only comes in book form, apparently.” 

 

He turns a bit, typing on his keyboard, and I supply him with the name of the elusive book. As he types, I take him in. He’s got constellations of freckles across his face and neck, and a pale scar across his nose. 

 

“Aye. It was returned just this morn, which is why ye cannae find it.” He hops off his stool, and I realize I’m watching him walk away a bit too closely. I drop my gaze to the counter. His area of the desk is covered with post-it notes with drawings of flowers. Not just the five-petal loops most people draw. These are incredibly detailed and realistic. My book comes into view on top of them. 

 

We do the student-card-scan-book dance, and he tells me I have to return the book in two weeks as he tucks a reminder into the cover. I wave goodbye, and he calls “Bye, Sirius!” 

 

I’m already outside before I register he knows my name.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I berate myself the entire bus ride to the botanic garden. Normally, I don’t register the names of the thousands of students I interact with. There are too many, and I don’t care. But something about the way his eyes turned from grey to silver in the late morning light, something about the way his hair reminded me of good, black soil…

 

And of course, you don’t forget a name like Sirius.

 

So, I spend my ten minute bus ride trying not to bang my head against the window, and when I arrive, I am overwhelmingly grateful to Alice-friend and volunteer coordinator extraordinaire-for having several rows of produce to harvest. I’ve always been of the opinion that getting your hands dirty is the best way to clean your mind.

 

“Remus? What’s going on?” Alice taps my forehead, and I blink up at her from where I’ve knelt down to spread out mulch.

 

“What?”

 

She raises her eyebrow. “You’ve been spreading mulch around that same parsnip plant for near on five minutes. I think you can go ahead and pull it up.”

 

I look down to see that I’ve spread the mulch away from the plant in a perfect circle. I yank it up and toss it into the wheelbarrow while Alice chuckles. “Ah, Skedaddle aff.” I pull up the next parsnip.

 

Before I know it, I’ve fallen into a rhythm of yanking up parsnips and daydreaming about all the things we can make with them at the soup kitchen. Parsnip hash browns. Parsnip and cauliflower soup. I run my hands through the soil, and my mind replaces the soil with equally rich hair.

 

I quickly wipe my hands on my apron and push my wheelbarrow around to the washroom. Alice appears shortly after, bumping my hip with her own.

 

“So.”

 

I turn on the water.

 

“What’s on your mind, Rem?”

 

The sprayer makes a wonderfully loud sound when it hits the side of the metal sink. Alice sighs, but mercifully remains silent as I wash up. Unfortunately, the moment I shut off the water, she starts again.

 

“Reeemuuusss.”

 

I turn around. She is leaning one hip against the counter, arms folded across her chest. Her bright blue eyes pin me where I stand.

 

“I know you aren’t usually chatty when you are volunteering here, but you’ve been even more quiet than normal. Is everything okay?”

 

I close my eyes before I open my mouth. “I’m just...I called a library patron by name.”

 

Even though she says nothing, I can feel her confusion. I don’t know why this has become  _ a thing _ . It shouldn’t be  _ a thing _ . It doesn’t matter that I said his name. It doesn’t matter that I still remember it, hours later. It doesn’t matter that I can’t stop thinking of the way he bit the corner of his lip when I retrieved his book. It doesn’t matter.

 

“It’s no’ a thing.”

 

“Oh...kay…”

 

When I get back home, I’m still wearing my apron.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

“I need to go back to the library.”

 

James continues typing, and after several beats, I clear my throat. “I need to-”

 

“I heard you.”

 

I resist throwing something at his head. Who ever said I was immature? “Are you going to help me?”

 

“You know where the library is. You were there yesterday.” He gets up to refill his water bottle, and I poke him in the arm as he walks past me.

 

“I need a  _ reason _ to go to the library.”

 

Cold blossoms against my spine, and I squeal, wriggling to get the ice cube out of my shirt. As soon as it hits the floor, I scoop it up and throw it back at James. He catches it and, because he is a ridiculously sporty person, tosses it neatly over my head and into the sink.

 

“Who do you want to see there?”

 

“The books!” I fold my arms.

 

James sits back on the couch and pulls his laptop back over. “You’re a student, Sirius. You don’t need to explain why you’re in the university library.” He begins typing again, and though I continue glaring, he doesn’t look back up. I sigh dramatically and head out the door. 

 

After class, I wander around campus until, as if guided by some cosmic force, I am standing in front of the library. He isn’t at the help desk. Maybe he’s shelving books? I wander around the library. After I’ve finished searching the third floor, it occurs to me that, if he is a student, he probably doesn’t work every day. Because, he probably has class. I have to resist slamming my head against the stacks. 

 

Well, since I’m here, I might as well get some work done. I find a table space (near the help desk, just in case) and start working on my paper.

 

I have no idea how long it’s been, but the next thing I am properly aware of is James closing my laptop and nearly catching my fingers. 

 

”Oi!” I glare across the table.

 

”You missed lunch.” James furrows his eyebrows. “Have you been here the whole time?”

 

I glance around. “Oh. Yeah. I...was working.”

 

James’ face reflects the surprise I feel. Then, he smiles. “I’m proud of you. But we’re going to be late for pub quiz.”

 

I pull out my phone, and a part of my brain registers five texts from James, but I’m focused on the time. “Oh shit!” I shove my laptop and my books in my bag, and we rush out the door.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

The first thing I notice when I arrive for my shift at the library is that Sirius is here. I am overwhelmed by a warm, giddy feeling. How have I never seen him before, and now two days in a row? But he seems really focused on his work, so I don’t bother him. I clear out the book return, and doodle in between assisting patrons. I actually remembered to bring my sketchbook today, so my desk isn’t covered in sticky notes. 

 

I can’t help but keep one eye on Sirius, focused on his work, the epitome of a university student. He must be an architecture student-no one else would be checking out a book on postmodern architecture, or whatever it was. I help a student find a book on molecular gastronomy. I keep finding myself staring, and I text Marlene to try and distract myself.

 

**Remus (13:08):** Hi

**Marlene (13:09):** *cat meme*

**Marlene (13:09):** what’s his name

**Remus (13:09):** how do you always ken I need distracting

**Marlene (13:10):** you only ever text ‘hi’ when you need to stop staring at a boy. What’s his name?

**Remus (13:10):** how do you ken it’s a boy?

**Marlene (13:11):** you don’t stare at girls, you’re too terrified of making them feel uncomfortable

**Marlene (13:11)** : quit pretending like I don’t know you so you can avoid answering my questions

**Remus (13:12):** I hate you

**Marlene (13:12):** love you too

 

_ Damnit Marlene, why are you always right? _ I shove my phone in my pocket and pull out my sketch book.

 

Technically, I’m not supposed to do schoolwork while I’m working (which I find ironic. I work in the  _ library _ ), but Madame Pince doesn’t seem to mind if I sketch, as long as I immediately stop if someone needs help. I doodle squash flowers and, in the margins, jot down a planting schedule.

 

The library doors open, and I’m momentarily blinded. A tall student with wild, dark hair strolls in, and though he looks familiar, I’m sure I’ve never seen him in the library. Still, he passes my desk without a glance, so I return to my work. I’m  _ certain _ I know him from somewhere...maybe he came into Da’s pub? It’s not exactly unusual for students to end up there, but I haven’t worked there since the summer.

 

_ It disnae matter _ , I remind myself. A few moments later, I find myself looking around for Sirius-he’s packing his bags and leaving with the wild-haired boy. I shake off the disappointment, reminding myself that if he’s come two days in a row, he’ll probably be back again. I turn back to my sketchbook.

 

When I get home, I am baffled by all the cereus cacti I’ve sketched.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

Typically, I love pub quizzes. I am, by nature, a collector of useless information, so having an outlet that can win free food and/or beer is wonderful. I slide into a chair between James and Dorcas and start trying to steal her fries.

 

I am focused and determined-but not on the questions. Any time I hear a Scottish accent (which is  _ everywhere _ , I live in fucking  _ Edinburgh _ ), I can’t help but think about freckles and the way his mouth softened the ‘r’ when he said my name. Why had I never thought to work in the library before? 

 

Dorcas elbows me in the side-I’m not paying attention to the questions, and according to the screen, the category is music-which is my domain. 

 

I try to summon all the things I know about  _ The Who _ and  _ Black Sabbath _ . Instead, I think about flower doodles, and brown eyes with tiny freckles in them. 

 

The bonus question, to my immense relief, is about horses. “Your territory, mate,” I say to James, shoving the pencil into his hand.

 

“There were originally two types of Highland pony. What region was the smaller-framed Highland from?”

 

James taps the pencil on the table, brow furrowed in concentration. “Bugger it. There was that map of Scottish horse breeds in my equine history book last year.”

 

Images start flashing in my mind. Drinking Strongbow and trying to help James study. “The map across from the photo of a Highland carrying a dead stag?”

 

James is already sliding a scrap paper toward me. “Yeah, I think so.” 

 

I close my eyes, and the moment he places the pencil in my hand, I begin to draw. 

 

“Ah! The Western Isles!” James claps me on the shoulder and takes the pencil back to write down the answer. “Thanks, mate!”

 

“My party tricks are at your service.”

 

Even still, we do terribly, and James needles me all the way home. I can’t tell him what I was really thinking about-it’s so ridiculous. I don’t even know his  _ name _ .

 

”There’s a boy who works at the library.” I want to slap myself.

 

James stops walking, and, very slowly, a wicked grin spreads across his face. “A boy?”

 

I punch his arm and stomp off. “Shut up.”

 

James grins the whole way home, and I can’t decide if I want to deck him, or myself. I throw myself onto my bed when we get home, and I can hear James chuckling across the flat. “Shut up!” I call. He laughs harder.

 

The next morning, I shower and head straight to the library. No James or crisps to distract me-this is perfect. 

 

The boy is there, at the help desk. I can’t help myself from stopping.

 

“Hey.”

 

He smiles with one side of his mouth, and my heart melts. “Hey, Sirius. How can I help ye?”

 

I shrug, and glance down. He’s got a sketchbook today, and it’s covered with the most unusual flowers I’ve ever seen. “Oh, I don’t need anything. Just wanted to say hello.” I tap his notebook. “You’re really good.”

 

My stomach flips over as I watch his cheeks flush. “Thank ye.”

 

Before I make too much of a fool of myself, I wave goodbye and head to my new spot.

 

For several days, all my free time is spent in the library. This is going  _ great _ . I’m getting my work done during daylight hours, I feel like I’m successfully flirting with Remus (I finally learned his name! It took me two days to ask him). He seems shy, but he’s so adorable.

 

On Saturday, James, Lily and I have designated family dinner. James usually cooks some ridiculously delicious Indian meal, and we all sit around and watch silly films and chill. But this afternoon, Lily had burst into our flat and demanded we go out so she could drown her week’s misery in beer and music.

 

So out we go, James leading the way in beer imbibement, and we dance and drink and generally make fools of ourselves until Lily feels more like herself again. 

 

I throw James’ arm around my shoulders so he doesn’t crash into tables on the way out. He’s laughing and tussling my hair, and I can’t help but feel like a kid brother even though I’m several months older than him. I love it.

 

Lily unlocks the door when we get back to the flat, and she grins indulgently at her boyfriend while she helps me dump him into bed.

 

“So, tell me about this boy.” She demands, after we are curled up under blankets in the living room. “James has said you’ve been at the library all week.”

 

I can feel my face heating, and I pretend it’s from my tea steam, even though I know Lily knows it isn’t. “His name is Remus. He’s got curls, and freckles, and such an adorable Scottish brogue and….ugh, Lily, I can’t. He draws the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen, just doodled in pencil in his notebook.” 

 

She sips her tea pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

 

“Have you asked him out?”

 

“I don’t know if he’s gay, Lils.”

 

She shrugs. “Worst he can say is no.”

 

I glare at her. “That is  _ not _ the worst thing that could happen.”

 

She sighs, but acqueices. “Fine, fine. Maybe there’s a way you could find out, without asking him directly?”

 

I twist and untwist a strand of hair around my finger. “Maybe I could check out some gay books? Like, not sex books. But….you know. I don’t know.”

 

“If he works at the library, you could ask him for recommendations.”

 

I bite my lip. “Yeah, okay.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

“I saw her.”

 

I glance up from my sketching, and the look on Marlene's face tells me exactly  _ who _ . She collapses into the chair across from me and sighs, resting her chin on her palm. 

 

“Persephone?” I grin at her and ducks as she swats at me.

 

“That's no’t her name!”

 

I point my pencil at her. “It could be, but you dinnae ken ‘cause you wilnae ask her!”

 

“I'm getting a fucking brownie.” She stalks to the counter, and I grin until I look back at my sketchbook. It's covered in cereus flowers. I quickly flip to a blank page and doodle some squash blossoms.

 

Marlene returns with her chocolate and two teas. I sip mine while she arranges the crumbs in line with the edge of the plate. The cacti are still prickling my mind, and I pull my thoughts across the table.

 

“So. When are ye going to ask her oot?”

 

Marlene glares at me. “You dinnaedon't understand lesbians  _ at all _ , Rem.”

 

I gasp, looking around dramatically. “You mean…” I lean across the table. “I'm not a lesbian?!”

 

She rolls her eyes. “No.”

 

I sigh dramatically, a hand on my chest. “Thank God. I love dick too much for that.”

 

She laughs, finally, and stops fidgeting with the crumbs. “Mum called.” She takes a breath. “She's still asking if I've found a nice boy.”

 

“She wilnae if you told her.”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“She's fine w’ me.”

 

“You aren't her kid.”

 

We glare at each other until her eyes flicker to my sketchbook.

 

“That's no’t what you were drawing when I came in.”

 

My stomach clenches. “Aye it is.”

 

She lunges across the table and grabs it. I just bite off a shriek. Instead, I pointedly sip my tea, ignoring the way her eyes are getting wider and wider. 

 

“How's the crush?”

 

“How's yours?”

 

Marlene stands up. “I'm no’t finished with this, Lupin.”

 

“Neither am I, McKinnon.”

 

She shoves the last bite of brownie in her mouth, blows me a kiss, and strolls out of the cafe.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

“Oi! Dorcas!!” I see my fellow architecture student halfway up the quad, and she, thankfully, turns. “Have you been to the shop today?”

 

“Aye, the shop tech’s Tracy.” She grins, and I can feel the tension drain out of me. 

 

“Excellent. Thanks!”

 

She waves a hand, and I head off in the direction of the shop.

 

Normally, I’m here late. I like the quiet of the shop when I’m alone, and I can take up as much table space as I like without bothering anyone. But any day Tracy is in is a day worth braving humans for. 

 

Sure enough, I open the door to chaos. There are several students, and the whole place is covered in sawdust and scraps of material. Tracy is at the circular saw, cutting lengths of mahogany, so I drop my plans in a chair and grab a broom. 

 

In just a few minutes, the front of the shop is (relatively) clean. I wait until Tracy has finished at the saw, then scoop up my plans and slink over.

 

“Uh oh. What have you got for me this time?”

 

I grin and spread my blueprints on the table. “Please don’t hate me.”

 

She laughs and takes in my drawings, and I can tell she likes it. “Sirius, this is really great.” We debate materials (she wins) and project names (I win), and soon I am seated at a table, building a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle that I designed myself.

 

And boy, do I hate myself right now, several hours into this. The Burrow is such a wonderful building on paper, all two-dimensional and theoretical. I glare down at my plans, willing the wood to assemble itself. 

 

“Traaaaccccyyy!” I can hear her laughing as she approaches. “This was a terrible idea.”

 

She sits down next to me and looks over my work. We go back and forth, and within ten minutes, she’s sorted me out.

 

“Can I take you with me when I graduate?”

 

She laughs again and pats my arm. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, eh?” 

 

I’ve made significant progress by the time she starts closing up the main workshop. I help her clean up, and though I could move to the student shop, I think it’s time for a break. After all, I haven’t discovered if Remus works any night shifts at the library.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I can’t help but get excited when I see Sirius in the library. He’s got headphones on, and is typing away. I allow myself to watch his long fingers while I scan in book returns. He types; he ties and unties his long black hair. I get yelled at for not scanning in books quickly enough. 

 

Just as I finish, I sense someone approach my desk. It’s Sirius. I swallow and wipe my hands on my jeans.

 

”Sirius. How can I help ye?”

 

He leans on the counter, running one hand through his hair. I have an almost overwhelming urge to see if his hair is as soft as it looks. Instead, I fold my hands on the desk.

 

”I was hoping you could recommend a book to me.”

 

I blink. “Any particular kind o’ book?”

 

He drums his long fingers on my desk. “I’m looking for a fun book. Not a school book.” He’s picked up my pencil and is rolling it between his knuckles. He has very skilled fingers. “Do you know any good queer fiction?”

 

Half a dozen books spring to mind, and I grab a piece of paper, rattling off titles as I jot down their Dewey Decimal codes. I pass over the paper. He grins and, when he puts his bag on the counter to open it, I notice a rainbow pin with ‘it’s not a phase’ written on it.

 

”Thanks so much, Remus.” 

 

He strolls out the door, all suave confidence, and the moment the doors close I pull out my phone.

 

**Remus (15:22):** he asked for LBGT books

**Marlene (15:22):** Star boy?

**Remus (15:23):** that’s no his name

**Marlene (15:23):** that’s literally his name

**Remus (15:24):** fuck off

**Marlene (15:24):** wear your pride pin tomorrow

**Remus (15:33)** : Eh? Why?

**Marlene (15:33)** he’s trying to figure out if you like boys

**Marlene (15:42):** DO. IT. REMUS.

**Remus (15:43)** : fine

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

I bound into the library. I don’t normally bound (despite James’ protests), but I get to see Remus today and any day on which I get to see Remus is a day worth bounding. Still, I know he’ll get upset if I am noisy, so I remind my feet to be quiet as I cross through to my designated study spot.

 

Remus is helping another student, so I give a gentle wave and open my laptop. He waves back, and when he turns to get something off the printer, I notice he’s wearing a bi pride pin. 

 

**Sirius 2:47pm:** HE IS BI

**James 2:49pm:** congrats

**Sirius 2:49pm:** COMMENCE PLAN: FLIRT WITH REMUS

**James 2:53pm:** as long as I’m not involved, go for it

 

I roll my eyes and turn back to my essay. It’s slow going, and not at all hindered by the fact that I keep looking over to see if Remus is free.

 

Remus is free.

 

I jump out of my chair, and he smiles as I lean on the desk. There’s a notebook open between us, and I peer down at the rectangles and symbols.

 

”What’s this?”

 

”My final project. I’m-” Madame Pince calls him, and he shrugs. I make my way back to my seat, trying to figure out what kind of project he is working on.

 

I flip through my late modernism architecture book, but I’m not really reading what’s on the pages. I text James, but he’s probably at the clinic by now. What could those squares mean? And all the symbols? Maybe it’s some kind of agricultural code? Like hieroglyphics? 

 

As soon as Remus appears back at his desk, I head back over. “So, what’s the project then?”

 

Remus furrows his brow, but then taps his notebook. “Ah. It’s a blueprint for a rooftop garden.”

 

“A blueprint?”

 

He grins at me. “Surely someone who checks out a book on late modernist architecture kens what a blueprint looks like.”

 

I can feel my cheeks heating up. “Right. I just...it’s not blue.” And then I pray for the floor to swallow me up. It’s not blue? Really?

 

Remus must be thinking the same thing, because he smothers a laugh with his hand. “This isnae the final draft, ya ken? Am only scrawling down ideas. I’ll make sure I get some o’ your official blue paper to submit it on.”

 

“Right. I’ll….right.” I want to die.

 

Madame Pince stops next to the desk. “Remus? Can you reshelve the sheet music Dumbledore just returned?”

 

Remus pats my hand as he crosses over to grab the cart. “Good luck with your architecture.” He’s still grinning.

 

As soon as he disappears into the stacks, I shove my laptop in my bag and flee. Thank God James is home-I collapse at his feet and face plant into his lap. He pats my head absentmindedly, most of his focus still on the telly.

 

“What happened?”

 

I can tell he is speaking reflexively. Blindly, I grope along the couch until I find the remote and pause it. I can feel James’ stomach huff, but he sounds significantly more focused on me this time.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Can I die now?”

 

“No.”

 

Silence. I will not give in.

 

I give in.

 

“Remus was drawing blueprints.”

 

More silence.

 

“I didn’t recognize that they were blueprints.”

 

James pats my head condescendingly. “Is that all?”

 

The ground doesn’t swallow me up here, either.

 

“I asked why they weren’t blue.”

 

I feel James’ stomach trembling before I actually hear his laughter. It doesn’t soften the blow.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I can’t decide if Sirius is flirting with me or not. Some days I’m sure that he is, other days I’m certain that he definitely isn’t. Still, he’s nice to chat with, and he seems to have figured out when the library is slowest, so he’s often there to fill the time. I have half a mind to buy blue paper just to tease him, but he got so flustered I don’t know if that would make him upset. So we just do a weird flirty dance instead.

 

And I keep doodling those damn cereus cacti.

 

It took me a while to figure it out. Professor Sprout is obsessed with telling the story of when she got to see one bloom while she was working at the Royal Gardens of Hampton Court. 

 

“They only bloom at night, you know.” She's told us, every single term. This year I could practically recite the story myself. “And only once a year. Their flowers wilt within hours. Yes, the cereus cactus is a most unusual example human cultivation! It’s a shame they don’t have one here at the local botanic gardens.”

 

I tell Sirius about volunteering at the botanic garden, and how Alice started working there after she graduated. He tells me about his obsession with surrealist architecture, which I’d never heard of, but seems to fit him perfectly. 

 

“People think it’s ridiculous! And sometimes it is, of course. But the truth is, you have to have a solid core.” He leans across the desk, as though he’s letting me in on some great secret. “If you have a solid support structure, you can be wild and not crash and burn.”

 

I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about architecture, or himself. He runs a hand through his long hair, and I dig my fingers into the desk so I don’t copy him. He’s definitely flirting.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

I am very rudely awakened before the sun by an overly-caffeinated James.

 

“Sirius! Come on!”

 

I pull a pillow over my head. “Why.”

 

He exposes me to the frigid air, folding my blanket over one arm. “ _ Sirius! _ Lily has gone to that work study retreat to London. It’s time to go shopping!”

 

I sit up and blink at him, rubbing one eye. “What’re we shopping for again?”

 

I’m pretty sure he said my name, but it sounds like a whine. 

 

“Oh. Right. Diamonds.” I can’t seem to hide my grin, and I get hit in the face with a blanket. By the time I extract myself, James is in my doorway. He raps his knuckles on the frame.

 

“We leave in ten.”

 

Four hours and three coffees later, I call timeout. We find a cafe (with  _ chairs _ , bless them), and order too much food.

 

“It just has to be perfect, Sirius.”

 

I can tell he’s still talking, but I stopped listening 45 minutes ago, and I’m not going to start up again when I’ve just been brought a giant basket of chips. Once my brain has fuel again, I lean back in my chair and study James.

 

“What?” He shoves the last of his sandwich in his mouth.

 

“We’ve been shopping in the wrong stores.”

 

He quirks an eyebrow at me and swallows. “Mate, all we’ve done all morning is go to jewelry stores. Where else are we supposed to go?”

 

“George Street.”

 

“No way. You know she hates it when she thinks I’m throwing money around.”

 

I pay for our lunch and drag him out to the street. “That’s because you never do it tastefully.”

 

By the time we arrive, James looks slightly less unconvinced. At least he follows me into the shop of his own accord. We are greeted by a tiny, ancient-looking man.

 

“Welcome to Ollivander’s. Oldest jewelry shop in Scotland, you know. Do you have an appointment?”

 

I summon all my inherited, Black family arrogance and entitlement. “Mr. Ollivander, I am in desperate need of your assistance. My friend here is looking to propose to his girlfriend, and, despite my protests, we have spent all morning in-” I lean across the counter and drop my voice- “chain jewelry stores.”

 

I hide my pleasure at Mr. Ollivander’s startled expression. He shakes his head and tumbles off his stool, racing around the counter to seize James with both hands. “No no, my boy. A proposal is supposed to be forever! Come, come. You must tell me about the girl who has won your affections.”

 

“Er-” James glances at me, and I shrug as Mr. Ollivander practically shoves him into an armchair. “Well, her name is Lily. She’s bloody brilliant, studying business and law. And-”

 

Mr. Ollivander holds up one long finger. “No, no. You must tell me about when you fell in love with her.”

 

It’s James’ turn to look offended. “You don’t fall in love in one moment.”

 

For the first time since we entered the shop, Mr. Ollivander looks pleased. “Ah, yes. But there was a moment when you suddenly realized you needed a ring.”

 

James opens his mouth, then runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah. I...I took her to Warsaw, over the summer. She’d never been, so we did all the big stuff, you know? The zoo, Old Town... and she mentioned that she’d always wanted to see Lazienki Park.” James runs a hand over his face. “God, I’ve never seen her light up like that.”

 

I grin and turn away, looking through the displays to find the rubies. I’ve heard this story a hundred times in the last three months, and I know if I let James over here without direction he will beeline to the emeralds.  _ Green, like her eyes _ , says the James in my head. I roll my own.  _ It’s not a ring for you, mate. It’s a ring for her. You’ve got to think about what she wants. _

 

I know she loves rubies. Because I am an excellent best friend and I know how to extract vital information without arousing suspicion. Now if only I could do that with Remus... 

 

Footsteps pull me back from my curly-haired reverie. Without looking, I grab James’ sleeve and tug him away from the emeralds. “Rubies, mate.” 

 

“Right. You mentioned that this morning.”

 

Mr. Ollivander raises an eyebrow as he pulls out the tray I point to. “And what is your role in this love story?”

 

“Best mate.” I pull out three rings and hold them out to James. I lean toward the jeweler. “Lily’s mum was really into the magical properties of stones.” I shrug. “Also her mum’s birthday was in July.”

 

I watch James and Ollivander debate styles and cuts, studying my brother. When he first started dating Lily, I was sure she was going to steal him from me. But in the end, she’s turned us both into better people. I try to stomp down the jealousy and turn it into excitement. I’m happy for James and Lily. Today, for once, is not supposed to be about me.

 

By the time we are back in our flat, James and I have worked out all the details of how and when he’s going to propose. He’s asked me to be his best man twice. I burn off his nervous energy by baiting him into a one-vs-one rugby game on the quad and then making him take me out to dinner. 

 

Only, once we’re at dinner, It’s  _ my _ turn to be nervous. Why are there so many boys with curly hair? There must be some kind of convention going on, because I’ve definitely never seen so many curly haired-

 

“Oi. Sirius.” James is giving me an odd look over the top of his glass. 

 

“Erm. What?”

 

“You okay, mate? You keep staring at that server.”

 

I blink, and realize I  _ have _ been staring at the server on the other side of the restaurant. But his hair is too sandy, and not enough amber. He’s a little too short, and his movements a little too flashy. He’s not  _ Remus _ .

 

“Of course he’s not Remus. We aren’t at the library.”

 

It takes me a moment to register that I’ve said this last thought aloud. I open my mouth to rebuke, but James is grinning at me.

 

“We’ve been talking about Lily all day. Your turn.” He shoves a chip into his mouth. And just like that, all the words I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back come tumbling out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I love Professor Sprout. For some reason, she took a shine to me my first year, and I’ve nearly always gotten my preferred outside-of-class projects. She even help me set up a partnership between a local soup kitchen and our agricultural department. 

 

But one of the things she makes me do,  _ every single autumn _ , is bring the grains to the vet clinic. I have no idea why she decided this was a job that only I can do. (She does assign me a partner, so I guess that’s something.) I don’t mind the small vet clinic. They usually have kittens. The large animal clinic smells like...well, a barn. And the students who work there always try to convince me to feed the cows.

 

I’m not a feed-the-cows type of boy.

 

Marlene isn’t in the field, and after a moment’s thought, I head to the barn. Sure enough, she’s in the incubating room, cooing at her eggs.

 

“Ye ready?”

 

“They’re growing!” She blows kisses at the incubators and heads back out toward the field. I don’t bother hiding my laughter. She’s more of a parent to those unhatched chicks than she will ever be to a human baby.

 

“Ye seen Persephone lately?” I dodge her swat, bending down to pick up a harvesting basket. 

 

“How’s Starlord?”

 

I roll my eyes. “He’s neither of those things.”

 

“He sure has the accent for it.” Marlene puts on the most posh English accent she can manage. “Hallo there, Remus! You look absolutely spiffing today! Are you well? Jolly good, jolly good!” She snorts a laugh, and I hide mine behind a large squash. 

 

“He’s not that bad!” I deposit my produce into the containers to be taken to the soup kitchen and loop back around to the next row. Thankfully, she moves on to other topics, mainly how well her chicken eggs are doing and whether there will be enough butternut squash for two rounds of soup this year.

 

By the time we finish, we've planned out next week's meals for the soup kitchen. Marlene bustles inside, scoops up the recording book, and starts noting it all down. She ignores my glare with practiced ease, and I haul several buckets of vegetables to the truck.

 

“I wilnae forget this, McKinnon.” I call as I shove a bale of hay onto the truck bed.

 

“My handwriting is prettier than yours!”

 

I let the door slam on her words and drive to the large animal clinic. 

 

I'm so focused on being angry at Marlene that I am not strictly paying attention, so when the back door of the clinic opens up, I jump at the sound of my own name.

 

“Remus?”

 

It's the wild-haired boy who is friends with Sirius. This is where I've seen him before! Suddenly, my heart leaps. Is Sirius here?

 

“Hi!”

 

The boy holds out his hand, and I register that he's wearing scrubs. Sirius is probably not here. “I'm James. Nice to finally meet you!”

 

I shake his hand and grin.  _ Gotta be cool, Remus _ . “I've seen ye in the library sometimes.”  _ He’s friends with Sirius, Remus.  _ “How is Sirius?”  _ Not cool, Remus. _

 

James runs a hand through his hair. “Good! Yeah… He's good.”

 

We look awkwardly at each other before I recall the reason I'm standing at the back of the large animal clinic. “I've, er, got some food. For the animals.” I point at the truck over my shoulder.

 

“Ah, great! I'll help you bring it in.”

 

We unload the truck in near silence, and I can sense he has something he wants to say, but won't. When we are finished, I hold out my hand again. “Thanks, James. I guess I'll see ye and Sirius around soon?”

 

He gives me a strange look and runs his hands through his hair again. “Yeah! Yeah. See you around!” Then he practically bolts inside.

 

I turn the encounter over and over in my mind. Was I too… Excited? Was it him? I've never seen him not around Sirius. Maybe that's just how he is. 

 

But little seeds of doubt have been planted, and I can't seem to pull them all out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**SIRIUS**

 

Just as I've figured out the placement of a particularly frustrating support beam for The Burrow, the workshop door flies open and I nearly jump out of my chair.

 

“Sirius! Guess who I just saw at the clinic! You'll never guess.” He slams into the chair across from me, but blissfully doesn't actually touch the table.

 

“Seabiscuit.” I say, eyes still focused on where I'm dabbing glue. 

 

“He died in 1947.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see James almost lean on the table, but stop. Good man. “Also, it wasn't a horse. It was a person.”

 

“Was it a person dropping off a horse?”

 

“No-he was dropping off-oh, for fuck's sake.  _ Remus _ .”

 

An extra dot of glue slides onto the support. I look up. James has his excited-but-serious face on. “Remus?”

 

“Yeah, he was dropping off produce for the horses. I tried to stay cool. I don't know what stage you're at in your 'woo Remus’ plan”-his fingers do air quotes- “but I didn't want to scare him off.”

 

I can't help my grin. “Thanks, mate.”

 

James checks his watch and stands up. “Gotta run back to the clinic-break's almost over.”

 

“Wait-you came all the way here on your break?”

 

James is already at the door. He shrugs and gives me his signature grin. “Yeah.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**REMUS**

 

I’m still thinking about James- _ let’s be honest, Sirius _ \- the next afternoon when I arrive at the botanic garden. I wave to Hagrid and make my way back toward the edible garden.

 

_ Was he acting weird? I don’t know that I can really be the judge of that. He sure seemed more awkward than he’s been at the library. Sirius was at the library. I act differently around Sirius than around other people. His nose is really straight. _

 

“Remus.” There is a sharp rap on my shoulder. I look up to find Alice towering over me.

 

“Ye’ve been de-wrinklin’ the aprons for several minutes now. Do ye need help findin’ somethin’ productive teh do?” She has one hand on her hip, but her face is full of concern.

 

“I-” My mouth opens, then closes. I stand and run my hands over the apron I already have on. “I’m fine.”

 

Alice hums through pursed lips. “Hagrid is planting the Christmas daffodils. Why don’t you go help him.”

 

“I’m fine, Alice!”

 

I turn to leave, but am stopped by a finger jammed into my sternum. “You are not fine. I don’t know what’s going on, because your thoughts are locked up in the bloody Tower of London, but you’ll think clearer with dirty nails. Go help Hagrid.”

 

A protest forms on my tongue, but I swallow it. After all, she’s right. I head out the door.

 

Thirty minutes later, I’m covered in soil and starting to feel much better.  _ What if James doesn’t like me? _ I plant another bulb.  _ They seem like very good friends.  _ Sprinkle water.  _ Maybe James is jealous? _ Dig a hole.  _ That’s not my problem.  _ Another bulb.  _ Yes it is. _

 

I try to bury my thoughts with the bulbs I’m planting, but I have a suspicion they are going to keep sprouting up.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

“Jaaaaaaammmeeessss!”

 

I bat my eyelashes at him from my position, upside down on the couch. He pauses, one hand on the fridge handle. “What do you want? I’m going to be late.”

 

I bound up, boots thudding when I land. “Can I come with you?”

 

James narrows his eyes and retrieves his water bottle. “I’m going to the Equine Hospital today.”

 

“I know!” I tap the wall where our schedules (and Lily’s) are taped up.

 

He pulls his keys off the rack and puts on his coat. “This is very suspicious, Sirius.” He turns half to the door, and then back to me. “You just want to come because on Wednesday I saw Remus there, and you hope he’ll be there again.”

 

I groan, barely resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall. “I need to find out what that flower is that Remus is drawing.”

 

James stops with the door half open. “Why can’t you just ask him, again?”

 

I flap my hands. “Because I already embarrassed myself with the blueprint catastrophe and-”

 

He snorts, but holds up his water bottle in surrender. “Right. Whatever. Just come on, I don’t want to be late.”

 

I grin and grab my jacket on the way out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

Really, this is getting ridiculous. Cereus flowers have nothing to do with my final project. Why do I keep drawing them? That’s a ridiculous question, of course I know why I keep drawing them. Cereus. Sirius.

 

I flip another page, and find more cacti flowers. I sigh and toss my notebook onto the foot of my bed. 

 

”Remus, love?” Ma’s footsteps stop outside my door.

 

”Aye?”

 

”Find a break soon, aye? Dinner’s nearly ready.”

 

”Okay, Ma.” She her footsteps fade toward the kitchen, and I stare blankly at my landscaping blueprints for another minute before I will myself out of bed and to the kitchen. We fall into the routine of mother-son questions.

 

”How’re yer courses?”

 

”Fine.”

 

”Have you met-”

 

” _ Ma. _ . I live at home. Ye ken my schedule. When could I ha’ possibly met someone?”

 

Ma sighs and refills my bowl of stew. “I just think that you're missing opportunities, Remus. You're at university! Surely there's at least one nice boy that likes to study in the library.”

 

It's my turn to sigh. “Ma, they go there to  _ study _ , no’ to be chatted up.”

 

”Ah, so there are some nice boys at the library!”

 

I barely resist the urge to bang my head against the counter. My brain helpfully supplies images of Sirius running his fingers through his long hair. “I need to get back to work. Thanks for dinner, Ma.” I kiss her cheek and practically bolt back to my room.

 

I’ve almost completely gotten Sirius (and cacti) out of my mind, when I realize I’d let Marlene borrow one of my reference books and she hasn’t returned it.

 

**Remus (7:38pm):** Are you finished with  _ Crop Rotations for Scottish Soil _ ?

**Marlene(7:39pm):** yah. Do ya need it now? I’m on my way to the barn to check on my eggs

**Remus (7:39pm):** Grand. I will meet you there. Ta!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

I've never been out to this campus-architecture students don't need regular access to cattle. Even though I know it's still inside the city, I expect it to look like we’re in the country. Mostly, it looks like buildings. I glare suspiciously. “Where is all the farm stuff?”

 

James chuckles and begins pointing out the different clinics and explaining different buildings. He points to a building with very narrow vertical windows. “That’s the Roslin Institute.”

 

I blink at him.

 

“All of Remus’ professors will have their offices in there.”

 

I grab James’ face and plant a kiss on him. He smiles indulgently, long used to my antics. “You are the best, Jamie. I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Siri.” He turns toward the building he’d pointed out as the Equine Hospital, and I head inside the Roslin building.

 

I wander around, not really having any idea where I'm going, until I come across an open door labeled “Pomona Sprout-Associate Professor of Agriculture.”

 

A very small, round woman is watering what looks like half a jungle. Behind the desk is a large poster of that damn flower Remus keeps drawing. It's like  _ fate _ . I rap my knuckles on the door.

 

“Excuse me, are you Professor Sprout?”

 

She peers at me over the top of her glasses, then climbs down off her stool.

 

“Yes. Can I help you?”

 

Her head comes to the middle of my chest, and I have to resist bending down like I'm talking to a kid.  _ Don't be an arse, Sirius _ .

 

I hold out my hand, and she shakes it. “Sirius Black. I'm an architecture student. It's a pleasure to meet you.” I gesture to the poster behind her desk. “That is a beautiful plant. What is it called?”

 

Her whole body lights up when she realizes what I'm pointing to. “Ah, that's the night-blooming cereus!” Her grey bun wiggles as she talks. “It only blooms once a year, at night. Isn't it  _ striking _ ? I keep trying to convince the botanic gardens here to get one. They only have them at Hampton Court, you know. I was in charge of them when I worked there…”

 

I quickly stop listening as she prattles on, peering around the office. I didn't think I would get my answer this easily. Her walls are covered with plants or books about plants, but right next to her diploma is a newspaper clipping. With a picture of Remus. I move closer.

 

_ University of Edinburgh Student Creates Program To Feed Homeless _

 

“Ah, do you know Remus?” She's looking at the article with the pride of a mother on her face.

 

“Yes. He works at the library.” Anyone who looks like that at a photo of Remus, I'm not going to explain my real intentions to. 

 

Sprout gives a little sigh and cleans her glasses. “That boy works so hard. He is always thinking of others.” The arm of her glasses traced the edge of the photograph. “Every single one of his projects has been focused on finding ways to feed more people in Edinburgh.” She shakes her head and a few strands of hair come loose. “Well. You didn't come here to listen to me prattle on about Remus.”

 

I fidget with the cuff of my jacket. “Well,  _ actually _ …” I swallow. I've opened up my mouth now, and suddenly I can't stop the words. “He's been drawing that cactus flower on every spare piece of paper at the library. I came to figure out what it is.” 

 

She's looking from the poster to me. “He's been drawing the cereus flower?” Her brows furrow. “What did you say your name was, dearie?”

 

“Sirius.”

 

“Right. Well, Sirius, the cereus flower is quite striking. But Remus, historically, has held some amount of disdain for plants that are not consumable by wide swaths of the population.” She pats my elbow, and I'm being escorted out of her office. “It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black. Thank you for stopping by.” 

 

I stare at her door, quite certain she winked at me, but unable to fathom what on Earth that was supposed to mean.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

Marlene is just emerging from the barn when I arrive, her plaited hair glowing in the light from the doorway. She always has perfect timing. 

 

“Remus!” She waves me over, grinning. “My eggs haven’t hatched yet. But they’re getting close!”

 

“Am waiting with bated breath fae the ripening of yer eggs.” 

 

While she digs in her bag, I stare across the darkness. Two people get off the next bus, and I feel like I would recognize that laugh anywhere.

 

Sirius.

 

My breath hitches. What on earth is he doing out here? They walk through a flood of streetlight and I realize he’s walking with James. James, who is pointing at buildings. I half smile, turning toward Marlene to point them out when it happens.

 

Sirius kisses James square on the mouth, and then James walks in to the equine clinic.

 

“Rem?” 

 

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and though I turn, I feel like I’m moving in slow motion.

 

Marlene’s warm eyes are crinkled with concern. “Are you alright, darling?”

 

My stomach feels like it’s dropped out of my shoes. “I’m fine.” 

 

Why did I think Sirius was flirting with me? “I have t’ go.” This explains why James acted so weird that day at the clinic-he must have known I have a crush on his boyfriend.

 

I turn to leave, and she grabs my arm. “ _ Remus. _ ”

 

My eyes focus on her again, and she’s pressing a book into my hands. My fingers automatically curl around it. She hauls me into the barn and shoves me into a chair, then kneels in front of me.

 

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

 

It takes several tries for my mouth to work again. “Sirius has a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry.” She pulls me into a tight hug, and after several beats I wiggle free.

 

“It’s alright.”

 

“No it’s not! You fancy him! You thought he was flirting!”

 

I shrug. “I don’t know him that well. Maybe that’s just how he is. He’s rather...flamboyant.” I stand up. “I’m going to go home.”

 

She grabs my face and looks me dead in the eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

As much as I can manage, I nod. She gives me one last, fierce hug, and puts me on the next bus home.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

It has been three days since I saw Remus. 

 

“I know, mate.” James is slouched over the armchair, a beer dangling from his fingertips. 

 

I need an idea.

 

“I know, mate.”

 

Is he talking to me?

 

“Well, there’s no one else bloody here, is there?” James rolls his eyes and gestures around the room with his bottle.

 

I blink. “I’ve been talking out loud this whole time, haven’t I?”

 

“Mate,” James squints at the coffee table from behind crooked glasses. “Mate, you’ve had...a lot of beer. You know you can’t think quietly when you’ve been drinking.”  

 

I frown at the coffee table. It  _ is _ covered in a lot of bottles, but I’m quite certain several were drained by James. “Are you going to help me or not?”

 

James sighs and leans his head back. “What does he like, aside from being cheeky in the library?”

 

I close my eyes and summon images of Remus, doodling flowers, scanning books, laughing. 

 

“I’m going to build his garden.”

 

“That sounds filthy.” James squeals as he’s hit by a pillow. I smirk at him.

 

“The  _ blueprint _ , Jamie!” I scramble for paper and unearth a pen from the couch. Empty bottles clatter onto the carpet, and I begin to sketch what Remus had been drawing at the library. After a moment, James hauls himself out of the chair and peers over my shoulder.

 

“That paper is green.”

 

I elbow him in the shin and continue drawing. When I finish, I hold it out proudly. “Here it is!”

 

James adjusts his glasses and studies my drawing. “What do all these symbols mean?”

 

My heart falls. “I’ve no fucking clue.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

This shouldn’t bother me. I don’t even know Sirius that well. He never said he was single. Technically, he never even said he was interested in me. Marlene said that. So really, this is her fault.

 

I collapse backward onto my bed, and something jams into my shoulder. It’s my sketchbook, and it’s open to my most recent bout of cactus flowers. Part of me wants to rip out the drawings and burn them. Instead, I just stare until my eyes blur them away.

 

The next day, Professor Sprout pulls me aside after class. This is not particularly unusual-she is always asking how my volunteer work is coming, and technically I do have a final project she is overseeing. Still, something about her seems...off, somehow.

 

“Are you alright, dearie? You’ve been awfully quiet today.”

 

I shrug and nod. She raises her eyebrows, then ushers me into her office. She sets out two mugs with a handful of Werther’s Originals between them, then clicks on her kettle.

 

“So.” She settles into her chair and peers at me over the top of her glasses. “Tell me.”

 

I shrug again. Still, she waits. “There’s a boy I fancy. But I’ve just found out he’s got a boyfriend.” I watch her glumly while she fixes our tea.

 

“I’m sorry, Remus.” She pats my hand. “There will be others.”

 

“Aye.”

 

She asks about my final project, and by the time I leave, I’m feeling almost better.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

Remus is in the library. I know this because I saw him go in while I was behind the curve of the staircase. I check my watch. It’s been twenty minutes, and he still hasn’t come out. So he must be working.

 

God, I want to go in there. But if Remus is in the library, he’s not with Professor Sprout. Which means  _ I _ can talk with Professor Sprout. After peeking through the window one last time (he’s drawing again), I head toward the bus stop. I retrace my steps to Professor Sprout’s office, and only have to wait about fifteen minutes before she appears, a small trail of students behind her.

 

Sprout pauses, key half in the lock, and I can feel her looking me up and down. “Mr. Black, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She nods, and finishes opening the door. “I have office hours now, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to handle my regular students first.”

 

“I don’t mind.” I lean my head back against the wall and press my hand into my pocket, running my fingers along the edge of the folded paper there.  _ Please _ , I ask the kitten in the motivational poster on the opposing wall.  _ Please let her know the answer _ .

 

The last student leaves, and after a few moments, I am called in. She gestures to a chair. “How can I help you, Mr. Black?”

 

I dig the paper out of my pocket and smooth it onto the desk between us. She frowns down at it. “This looks like Remus’ final project blueprints.”

 

Pride bubbles in my chest. “Thank you, that was the intention. I was hoping you could help me with something.” I point to the various symbols. “Is there any kind of guide for what these symbols mean?”

 

She studies my drawing in silence for nearly a minute, then reaches behind her and pulls a book off the shelf. “Remus has always been partial to Phyllida Spore’s process. He is probably using her notations.”  _ 1000 Herbs and Edible Fungi Every Scotsman Should Know _ covers most of my drawing. It is several inches thick. “You may borrow this book, Mr. Black, as long as you bring it back by Friday.”

 

Without hesitation, I scoop up the book and my drawing, then hold out my hand to shake hers. “Thank you so much, Professor. You’re a lifesaver.”

 

I’m in the hall when she calls me back. “Sirius?”

 

“Ma’am?”

 

She points her glasses at me. “Remus is my favorite student.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

Sirius is not in the library. In fact, it has been a while since I’ve seen him, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve blown the whole thing out of proportion in my head.  _ He was flirting wi’ ye!  _  Insists the Marlene in my head. But I’m not sure I believe her.

 

“Remus? Do you have a moment?”

 

I follow Professor Sprout into her jungle-office and choose the only chair that does not force me to look at a newspaper article about myself.

 

“How’s your rooftop garden coming?” She places a handful of Werther’s sweets between us, nudging one closer to me before opening up her own.

 

“Good! I’m working on crop rotations right now.” I pick up a Werther’s and spin it idly.

 

She nods, sucking thoughtfully. “You’ve finished your blueprints, then?”

 

“Aye. Well, I haven’t transferred them to-” my words falter, and I frown.  _ To official paper _ , I was going to say. “How did you know? I haven’t brought it to you.”

 

Sprout becomes very interested in rummaging through her tea drawer. “Your friend stopped by.” She waves her hand, face still buried in the drawer. “You know.”

 

“Marlene?” Professor Sprout never forgets names. She’s known for it.

 

Her bun shifts sideways. “Mm, no. Tall boy. English. With hair the color of soil. He was ever so polite.”

 

“ _ Sirius?” _

 

She stops pretending to dig in her tea drawer and sits up. “Ah, yes. Sirius.” She grins at me. “Came in asking lots of questions about cacti. Said he saw someone drawing the most  _ striking _ flowers and he had to know what they were.”

 

“Stop looking at me like that. He has a boyfriend.”

 

She furrows her brow. “Are you certain?”

 

“I saw Sirius kiss him.”

 

Sprout hums and picks up her watering can. “Perhaps. But he seems very focused on you, dear.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

When the student workshop door opens, I nearly cry in relief. 

 

“Tracy! Thank God.  _ Help me _ !”

 

She laughs and heads toward the back to set down her things. “I’ll be right there, Sirius.”

 

I clear a chair of paper debris and try to assemble the table’s contents into some kind of order, but it isn’t very effective. 

 

“This doesn’t look like  _ The Burrow _ .” She pulls one of my drawings toward her.

 

“It’s not.” I bite my lip. “It’s not a school project. It’s….an extra project.”

 

Her finger runs down my scribbled handwriting as she begins to read aloud. “Find out how to grow tiny plants? Does it need electricity? Sirius, what on earth are you doing?” Her voice is filled with laughter.

 

I run my hands through my hair. “There’s a boy, and-”

 

“Of course it’s a boy.”

 

I glare at her. “Well I wouldn’t be doing this for a toad.” I take a breath. “Anyway, his name is Remus. And I’ve been trying to flirt with him, but I might have fucked it up a bit, and now he probably thinks I’m a giant idiot, so I wanted to give him something, and he was designing this rooftop garden, so I thought I could turn it into a planter, because I’m an architect! Almost, anyway. But I don’t know how to scale down a tenement building into a planter. I don’t know anything about plants. I don’t-”

 

She presses her hand against my arm. “Sirius. It is going to be okay. I don’t think you need it to  _ be _ a tenement building. Just  _ look _ like one, right?”

 

I nod.

 

She takes her time, going through all my myriad notes and, not twenty minutes later, she’s simplified the entire project and even offered me some of her private stash of higher quality woods.

 

I throw my arms around her neck. “Thank you, thank you thank you-”

 

She chuckles and hugs me back. “You’re very welcome. I hope he likes it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I've finally lost it. I don't even  _ like _ cacti-my focus is on nutritional plants. And Sirius...Not that I’m still thinking about Sirius. Or drawing cereus flowers. Still, I find myself at the botanical garden, heading straight for the arid greenhouse. 

 

In all the times I've been to the gardens, I've only been in this greenhouse once-the very first time. It holds pretty much no interest to me, and I actually miss the entrance and have to double back-I'm so used to heading straight for the vegetable patch.

 

I loop back through the rose garden when a familiar voice gives me pause. It's James. I wonder if that means Sirius is here? I shouldn't spy on them if they are on a date. And yet, I find myself leaning against an oak tree, peering around. I spot James-he's snuggled up on a bench with a red-haired girl. His typically over-exuberant nature is subdued, and he keeps lacing and unlacing their fingers.

 

My stomach drops.

 

He's cheating on Sirius.

 

I quickly pull myself completely behind the tree. Should I interrupt them? No. I know very little about the nature of Sirius and James’ relationship. Maybe they are poly? But Sirius has never mentioned anyone else in their group. I resolve to interrupt them, but just as I stand up, Hagrid lumbers up to me.

 

“Remus!” He waves, and I can't help but wave back. 

 

Later, I tell myself. I'll tell Sirius the next time I see him.

 

“Hello, Hagrid! Got anything new this week?”

 

He grins and pats me heavily on the shoulder. “Aye-I know yer not as interested in deserts, lad, but we just got the most amazing cactus…”

 

He steers me inside the back door of the greenhouse, and there, in the middle of the staging room, is a night-blooming cereus.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

Lily strolls into the apartment in the middle of my rant about miniature plants.

 

“Really, James, I did not sign up for this. I can’t make all these vegetables out of clay! What do they think I am, some kind of sculptor?”

 

Lily kisses James and laughs at me. “Weren’t you saying last week that architects are just building sculptors?”

 

“He was indeed, Lily, darling.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Yes, a  _ building _ sculptor. Not a bloody  _ vegetable sculptor _ .” 

 

“Are you required to make them yourself?”

 

“He isn’t required to do anything-this isn’t a school project.”

 

Lily’s eyes light up. “Is this the Remus project?” She practically leaps off James’ lap and snatches up my blueprints. “Really, Sirius, this is just too cute for words. Are you really trying to…” She trails off, and James and I exchange confused glances. “Why don’t you just get some things from the doll house section of the crafts shop?”

 

“The what?”

 

She rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, showing me photo after photo of miniaturized...well, everything you could ever think about having in a regular house. Chairs, beds, toilets, loaves of bread, even napkins and tiny forks. I want to kiss her, but I don’t. Not that I haven’t kissed Lily before; but James has been in half a panic all afternoon, and there’s no need to start him up again now.

 

“You’re the best, Lily.” I do give her a hug though. “Off to the craft shop!” I practically bolt out the door. 

 

The craft shop was blissfully full of tiny squashes, cabbages, tomato plants, and a thousand other plants, and I return to our flat triumphant.

 

As I have been forbidden from spying on James’ proposal, I quarantine myself in the student workshop, half-high on varnish fumes. No one else is here tonight, so I blare  _ Green Day _ and prop open the back door. Still, Billie Joe’s words cannot distract me from thinking about James at the Botanic Garden, asking Lily to be an official member of the family. Remus volunteers at the Garden. I carefully arrange the fake vegetables on top of my drawings.

 

Honestly, Pomona Sprout is a blessing and a half. I found every symbol Remus had in that book, and it quickly became clear that Remus is designing some kind of rooftop farm. Only without animals. Photocopies of several pages are spread across the table with my own sketches, and I find myself recognizing invisible patterns in vegetables, just as I can see the invisible supports of a building.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

It has been two days since I saw James and the red-headed girl at the gardens. Sirius hasn’t even stopped by the library. If he doesn’t come back in, should I find a way to tell him? 

 

Thankfully, some act of fate has him strolling through the doors just as I clock out. He beelines for me, grinning.

 

“Hello, darling. How are you this fine evening?” He leans across the counter toward me, but I am too preoccupied to really register what he’s trying to do.

 

“Hey, Sirius.” I glance around. James isn’t here-this is my chance. I scoop my bag. “I just clocked out. Can I talk t’ ye outside for a minute?”

 

His brow furrows, but he gestures toward the door. I lead the way, trying to keep my breathing steady. He sits down on a bench beside me.

 

“You okay, Remus?”

 

I rub my hands on my trousers. “I went t’ the botanic garden on Saturday.”

 

I can feel him staring. “You go there every week.”

 

‘Aye, well.” I clear my throat. “I saw James there with a girl.” I glance over, and the next words freeze in my throat. Sirius is grinning at me like I just promised him an endless supply of jammie dodgers.

 

“Was it as perfectly ridiculous as I imagined? I’m still upset he wouldn’t let me come. I mean, I get it, I guess. But I’ve been waiting for this practically longer than Lily has!” He leans back against the bench, long legs stretched across the sidewalk. He looks inordinately pleased with himself. “I even went to three different jewelry stores with James. That boy is hopeless.”

 

I frown. “So...you’re okay with it?”

 

“Okay? Are you kidding? I’ve been needling James to propose for  _ months _ mate. He asked me to be his best man before he even asked Lily to marry him.”

 

I run a hand over my face. “Are...ye aren’t dating James?”

 

Sirius snorts and raises an eyebrow at me. “ _ Dating _ James? No. He’s practically my brother.” He sticks out his tongue. “Wait. Did you think we were together? Is that why you’ve been so hard to flirt with?”

 

My cheeks start burning. “Fl-flirt? Eh?”

 

Sirius leans close to me, and I notice he has one tiny freckle under his right eye. “I fancy you, Remus. I’ve been flirting with you the whole time. I just thought you were just painfully shy.”

 

I open my mouth, then close it. Sirius Black. Was Flirting. With Me.

 

His cell phone rings. 

 

“Hi Mum! Yes, I knew. Yes, I-No. No...Yes-Can I call you right back?” He shoves his phone back in his pocket, then traces one long finger along my jaw, lifting up my chin. “Mum just found out about James’ engagement; I’ve got to go run interference. Can I see you tomorrow?”

 

I close my eyes, rearranging my thoughts and extracting my schedule. “Aye. I’ll be at the library ‘til three.” When I open my eyes again, he’s grinning. My stomach swoops.

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

Sirius cups my cheek, and, for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he’s walking away, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**SIRIUS**

 

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!” The door of our flat slams open, causing James, who had been perched precariously on the arm of the sofa, to jump and fall onto the floor.

 

“What?! Bloody hell, Sirius.” He stands up, adjusting his glasses.

 

I stride across the room and poke him in the chest. “You didn’t tell Mum about your engagement!” 

 

“Yes I did!”

 

“Not until  _ today _ ! Which caused her to call  _ me _ ,  _ right while I was having a heart to heart with Remus and you know how her timing is with these things _ !” 

 

James has broken into a grin. “So it went well then?”

 

My eyes narrow. “I don’t know. We were rudely interrupted-”

 

He swats at my face and pushes me onto the sofa. “You’re helping me find this cactus!”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

Two hours later, we’ve called what feels like half the flower shops in Edinburgh, and none of them have a night blooming cereus.

 

“We could order one for you, sir, but it would take at least a week to get in-”

 

“We don’t keep those in stock. But we can order-”

 

“Not in our standard inventory, lad. If you like, we can-”

 

I hear James throw himself onto his bed. “This is useless.”

 

“How hard can it possibly be to find a cactus in a city with nearly 500,000 people?” I stalk into the kitchen and pull out the tin of chocolate biscuits Effie sent us. James practically materializes by my side.

 

“Bloody impossible, apparently,” he mumbles as he chews. “Wait...I think I saw a flyer for a new cactus exhibit while we were at the gardens. Maybe someone there would know?”

 

I shrug. “Worth a shot.”

 

It was.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

**REMUS**

 

I...have no idea what I’m doing. I have been yelled at more times today than my entire tenure at the library. I stare at the clock. It can’t seem to decide if it wants to race or crawl.

 

At a quarter to three, Madame Pince does something she has never done in four years; she dismisses me early. “Your mind is obviously elsewhere.” She tells me. “Go home and rest.”

 

Sirius hasn’t come yet. I sit on a bench and try not to let my anxiety show. What if he doesn’t come? What if he changed his mind? How long do I sit here before I decide he isn’t going to come at all?

 

“Hey.” Sirius is smiling at me, with his arms wrapped around a planter.

 

“Is...that a night blooming cereus?”

 

He sets it down and clears his throat. “We seem to have gotten off to a confusing start, so I’d like to begin again.” He pauses, and I feel pinned to the bench by his silvery eyes. “I don’t normally do this, you know. But your eyes are as striking as your wit, and I wasn’t getting anywhere with words, so I’ve gone for gestures.” He nudges the planter toward me.

 

I finally manage to drop my gaze, only to have my breath taken away. He’s built my final project into a cactus planter. Every bed is full of vegetables; he’s even painted windows on the sides to make it look like a tenement building. I swallow several times and my vision blurs.

 

“Remus?”

 

“Eh?” I look up, and he’s staring at me, looking slightly worried. 

 

“I said, I would love to take you out on a date.”

 

“Oh.” And then, quite unable to stop myself, I stand up and kiss him. “Yes.”

 


End file.
